


Man on the Moon

by ostentatiouslyrealistic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Constellations, Existential Crisis, Fables - Freeform, Friendship, Loneliness, M/M, Moon, Romance, Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:56:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29985969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ostentatiouslyrealistic/pseuds/ostentatiouslyrealistic
Summary: For all of his existence, Tendou Satori has cared for the stars, cleaning them, guarding them, and making sure they glow to the brightest of their abilities. But having the best job in the universe also comes with loneliness.Desperate for change, he takes a chance and leaves his home galaxy, latching onto the tail end of a comet, and from there, he meets the man who shepherds the asteroids, the man who cares for the planets, and the man on the moon.Loosely inspired byThe Little Prince.
Relationships: Semi Eita/Tendou Satori
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3
Collections: Haikyuu Big Bang 2020





	Man on the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to the Haikyuu 2020 Big Bang, and this is the link for artwork done by my wonderful partner, Ceru.

Tendou Satori has the best job in the universe.

He cruises back, leans down as he polishes a small orb, wiping its glassy surface along his handkerchief. Then pulls it up to his eye, inspecting the small marble for any foggy distortions along its clear surface. 

He huffs at it, breathing hot air onto the small object. The clarity gives way to a cloudy bloom, and he rubs it against his tunic, hoping to clear it even further. Continues to do so until it nearly sparkles. 

It's then that he gingerly puts it back in place, watching it slowly fill with an icy blue glow. When he turns away, he blinks away the ghost of its bright imprint. Before moving on to the next speck of light, he turns over his shoulder to give it a final glimpse.

The star radiates brilliance, and its flickering edges wave at him in a friendly goodbye. 

With his hands on his hips, he nods in satisfaction. Then, glides to its neighbor. 

But when he reaches the next star, he lets loose a growing sigh, pulling out his handkerchief.

Tendou Satori has the best job in the universe.

But with it, comes loneliness.

\--

The universe is wide—an expanse he's never fully been able to wrap around his head, but he ponders on the idea all the time. Thinks about the growing unknowns and the others who might be out there. 

He wonders how many beings are like him—how many have that same privilege polishing the stars and watching the light re-enter their various orbs. How many are able feel the heat prickle against the palms of their hands and at the tips of their fingertips.

There's something whimsical about the way each star brightens after his touch. 

He turns his head, watching a small cluster of stars spin in their own little dance. There's a lack of luster among a few, some that don't shine at their brightest. With a shake of his head, he twirls the handkerchief in his hand and kicks off of his place, feeling a slight resistance through his hair at the movement.

To his left, a planet rotates on its axis, a deep verdigris with violet swirls along its atmosphere. He passes a hand through its slight fog, feeling a wisp flutter against his fingertips. Peering into its cloudy depths, he attempts to search for a familiar face, only to see nothing but mountain peaks and winding rivers. 

Lips pursed, he continues on, drifting through the wide expanse that he considers home. It's all familiar to him, the plethora of planets that vary in shape and size. The stars that align beautifully once every millennium. The comets that gleam as they shoot by, some lightly grazing his tunic in flight. 

Everything. 

He loves it—loves his home, so the occasional flashes of discontent that upturn his stomach incite a twinge of guilt he's unaccustomed to.

Because Satori has always been profoundly curious, and deep inside, he knows there's much more the universe has to offer. 

\--

"Rules exist for a reason, you know?" Kenjirou says. Nothing in his tone betrays his mood, and the way he drones would make anyone think he's bored out of his mind. Satori frowns, dissatisfied with his friend's matter-of-fact words. 

Well, he considers Kenjirou his friend, even if the other doesn't feel completely the same. Either way, it's better than nothing. 

An occasional visitor is much, much better than crushing loneliness.

"Rules are meant to be broken," Satori sniffs, crossing his ankles. He's finished with his personal quota, pleased with himself at the way the stars gleam from far off distances. They've all been cleaned by him—and him only. 

He takes pride in his accomplishments. 

"They're there, so you don't upset a balance," his friend continues, preoccupied in his work. His palms cup one of the planets that twirl along the edge of their galaxy, cradling its deep, cerulean curve. It casts a long shadow across the orb as he hides half of it away from the nearest star.

"Yeah, but who comes up with these rules?" Satori asks, shifting to cross his legs in a sitting position. He settles at the boundary of their galaxy, feeling the invisible border press against his knees. 

He's almost tempted to break through and see what happens. 

Kenjirou scoffs. "Does it matter? We all have our jobs to do. If you leave—and don't give me that look; I know exactly what you're thinking—"

"—creep—"

"—then you upend the balance of things. And who knows what'll happen then?" At that, his words die off as he peers closely at the planet, brows furrowing. There's a slight tremor that rocks the planet, and Satori cranes his head back to get a better glimpse.

"You never know till you try," Satori suggests, blindly prodding his finger at the boundary. Kenjirou scowls—Satori isn't sure whether it's directed at him or at the planet. 

The trembling resumes, and a small crack splinters the surface, going from one end and disappearing into the shadows of Kenjirou's palm. Like a pus-filled wound, magma oozes from its depths. Crawls over the terrain to paint the edges of the long fissure a bright orange. 

Kenjirou clucks his tongue in disapproval. 

"A mess. It's been doing that more often, especially lately," he says, and the tiniest hint of worry seeps into his tone. Satori stretches his lips thin in understanding. 

"But anyway," Kenjirou sighs. For the first time, he glances up, irises reflecting the light from the nearest star. Blinking rapidly, he turns to find Satori watching him, and his earrings dangle and ring with movement. The gentle glow of the stars reflect off of the planet, casting a beautiful and simultaneously eerie glow against his face. It illuminates his sharp jaw and casts shadows along his cheekbones and his high brows. The effect emphasizes the austerity in his words. "You know you're not meant to travel further than the edge." 

Satori smiles grimly, and they both watch each other before Satori reaches over, plucking a star from its place. This one is hot to the touch, but it barely scalds him as he lifts it from its place. The moment it leaves its position, the light fades, and he's left with another glassy marble.

Rolling it between his fingers, he tilts his head up, breaking his gaze from Kenjirou's, who immediately returns to survey the damage. 

"Yeah, I know. But I'm still allowed to wonder." 

Kenjirou doesn't answer—doesn't indicate that he's heard Satori's quiet thoughts. Rather, he concentrates on his planet, tongue peeking at the corner of his lips. Reaching over, he glides his finger over the molten lava, and they both watch as the bright orange heat darkens into an obsidian scab.

Sigh escaping his lips, Satori turns back to the edge of the galaxy and releases the star back into its position. It flickers orange and resumes spinning away from the duo.

Satori watches it until it disappears into a band of other spinning stars. 

\--

He contemplates the conversation between himself and Kenjirou, running his words across his mind. 

_Rules exist for a reason._

They play like a broken tape, rewinding themselves through his head. 

Because yes—Kenjirou's right, of course he is. Rules exist for a reason. Satori curls his lips to one side, chewing his cheek in thought. A boundary exists at the edge of their Whirlpool Galaxy, one that no one has ever crossed.

To him, it's home, and he's never really stepped foot out of it. He's considered it, debated it with himself, but he's never gathered enough courage to fully step through. Since the beginning of time—his time—he's never left. Has remained confined in the large expanse he's come to know like the back of his hand.

But something about the border piques his interest.

If it's truly meant to keep one in, then why does it feel so flimsy? Why does it feel like the protective sheet around the galaxy is one bubble away from bursting? 

He's never left home, but that doesn't mean he hasn't messed with the border. He's sunk his finger deep into the boundary, feeling the light resistance against his fingertips. Just a bit more, and he's convinced it'll rupture. 

Kenjirou would explode on him if anything were to happen, but the curiosity gnaws at him, biting deep into his bones. An itch that begs to be scratched. 

But what lies on the other side? 

What other galaxies dance across the universe? 

What else is out there?

So many possibilities, so much potential. And so preoccupied with his thoughts, he's taken aback when the star shatters in his fingertip. The small explosion catches him off guard. For a second, everything stands still, a bated breath watching events unfold. And then it implodes, shards shooting toward the center and disappearing in a mass of black. 

Satori swears, tossing the broken star away from him without a second thought.

It begins to swirl through the air, and the glass that hasn't been caught by the whirlpool of bending time, disintegrates into a distorted burst of colors. From a fiery red to a rich gold to a vivid blue that borders on white. All of it begins to whirl around the blackened ghost of the star, surrounding it with inexplicable rays of light.

The light around the vortex begins to bend, warping and deforming. Satori peers through, watching everything twist and elongate in a bright, circular dance. 

Beautiful, but sad.

The death of a star always fosters beauty. A kaleidoscope of color. Awe and wonder well in his chest, swelling up a crescendo. Until it overflows, and the emotions trickle into a bittersweet sadness. 

Satori reaches forward, feeling the draw on his fingertip, and pulls back before he potentially loses himself in the iridescent ruins. He puffs a breath of air, feels it get sucked into the vortex.

Remorse fills his gut, and he tears his gaze from the black hole and moves it down to his hands, handkerchief crumpled in his left palm. There's no reason to blame himself—he knows this. 

Sometimes, he's able to feel when a star is about to die. Able to sense that its fragility sits on the shores of death. But even if it isn't his fault, he can't help but blame himself. 

Sometimes, he fears that it's his fault. That it's his fingers and handkerchief that cause the small scratches along their glassy exteriors. Lead them by the reins toward those splintering moments and shattering flashes. 

It's in these moments that he thinks, _I could have done better. I could have pressed more gently. I could have prevented this._

Clamping his fingers over the handkerchief, he stuffs it into his pocket, rough with shame. 

It's these situations that remind him of one crucial lesson.

Having the best job in the universe doesn't mean it's a perfect job.

\--

The tug of adventure strokes at his thoughts. Weaves its way through his brain. Threads its way down his veins, thrums down his bones until he can feel his body humming with throbbing energy. 

He's a step away from the edge and able to feel the pulse of promise waiting for him. Even with Kenjirou completely out of his proximity, he can sense his disapproval from across the galaxy. But questions swim through his head, leap from the depths and make themselves known to him. 

What's waiting for him? 

What will he find?

Who will he find?

What will happen?

And so many more. 

With a deep breath, he drifts forward, only stopping when he feels the slight resistance against the tip of his nose and at his fingertips. It's light, barely there, but it's also as prominent as the newborn stars that gleam throughout his galaxy.

Last chance to back out. 

Cautiously, he pushes his fingers out first, feeling them sink into the elastic-like border. They stretch forward, and he continues, going further than he's ever attempted before. His heart slams in his ribs, and his fingertips tingle. There's a gust in his ear, the roar of excitement and fear, a cacophony of noise that clashes with the deafening silence around him.

He's halfway to stretching his arms fully, when he feels the border begin to give. Their seams burst at his fingertips, and before he can stop himself, he's being pulled into the open. For a fleeting second, he feels his eyes widen in alarm.

And then he's through.

The entirety of his body sucked outside of the galaxy he's known for all of his existence. 

Whipping his body around, Satori gazes wide-eyed at where he's come through. Nothing seems to have changed, and he wonders at the idea that things out here are essentially the same as they are inside. It's not colder. The air is no different. The stars seem to remain the same, despite a majority of them covered in grime.

But it's also as if something _has_ changed.

Everything feels—wider, more vast. An unexplored emptiness that both excites and unnerves him at the same time, swirling into an odd pit at his stomach. It's the promise of adventure and the threat of darkness that threatens to swallow him whole. 

He places a hand on the border, feeling it thrum at him. He can't tell whether it wants him to come back or shoos at him to explore the rest of the universe.

Whichever it is, it's now or never. He's already left the proximity of familiarity, and now the universe lies at his feet, ready to be navigated. 

For a moment, he allows himself to suspend in a limbo. Breathes in a lungful of air and exhales it out in a puff. Lets the uncertainty circulate through his body and leave in a wistful sigh. He turns to the galaxy, giving it one final look over, and he can't help the sentimental feelings that threaten to overwhelm him. 

"Bye," he says, barely audible, and it's good enough for him. It's not a final farewell, nor is it a promise that he'll return. It's short and sweet, and that's honestly all he can choke out. Twisting back around, he pushes off and floats deeper into the unknown.

\--

For some time, he drifts without direction, cleaning stars that enter his vicinity. Other times, he curls in on himself, allowing his momentum to carry him through dark expanses. 

Sometimes, to entertain himself, he stretches out both arms, palms opened out and fingers splayed. And when something collides with his fingertips, he'll snatch it up to his chest. With a satisfied grin, he'll pause in place and give it a good shine.

It's one of those times, and he's successfully snagged one in each hand, both from the same cluster at the same time. Delighted, he freezes in place, rolling them around his fingers before bringing them up to inspect their cleanliness. He keeps the one in his right hand and releases the other, letting it suspend in midair. 

This one hasn't been touched in a while. He can tell with how much grime dusts the surface. With a grimace, he pulls out his handkerchief and begins to rub at it, taking care not to accidentally shatter its fragile surface. Only when it gleams to his satisfaction, does he hang it back in place, watching the light seep back into its tiny body.

He turns his attention to its sibling and pulls it to the palm of his hand, feeling the thickness of the glass beneath his touch. Impressed, he gives it a swipe of his handkerchief, noting that it's new enough that there hasn't been time for it to collect dust. Then, slipping it back in its place, he blinks away as it fills with a stunning blue light. 

With a nod of satisfaction, he continues on his way, humming gently and tucking the handkerchief back into his pocket.

\--

Sometimes he gets extra bored and challenges himself to see how many times he can flip through the air before his head fills with fog. Or he'll attempt cartwheels, which usually ends in a tangle of limbs, and at one point, a shattered star. 

Other times, he'll just float aimlessly, arms folded behind his head, one leg crossed over the other. He'll run memories of his galaxy through his head and accept the inevitable waves of homesickness that roll through his chest. 

With a sigh, he mutters, "I even miss you, Kenjirou." He waits, as if the name will conjure his friend. When nothing happens, he resigns himself to the consequences of his decision and succumbs to loneliness. 

\--

A slight tremble in the air catches his attention, and he knits his brows in concentration. It rumbles and quakes, causing the stars around him to quiver in their place. Many have lights that flicker in response, and some of the smaller ones swing wildly. Satori keeps them in his peripheral, concerned that they'll shatter and collapse on themselves—an occurrence he'd like to limit as much as possible. Getting caught in the midst of rupturing black holes isn't an idea he's too fond of.

The disturbance seems to come from behind him, and he twists around to find something small and bright hurtling his way. At first, he doesn't quite understand what he's seeing, but he's fascinated. It's new. It's different. It's something that's not monotonous.

He narrows his eyes, craning his neck forward in hope to catch a better glimpse as the object continues to fly in his direction. The closer it gets, the easier it is to see, and at the last second, he realizes that it's a comet. 

In a split second, he makes a wild decision. Adrenaline thrumming through his veins, he shifts a bit, bending down, and lifts a hand in the air. The comet grows bigger, flying faster than anything he's ever seen, and just as it passes him overhead, he grabs the tail, letting it yank him along.

His body jolts, and then he's flying. 

Though the speed of its travels inspires a churning fear in his stomach, Satori holds on tightly, eyes squeezed shut as he feels his weightlessness shoot through the unknown. His tunic flutters, catching stars and other debris in its folds. They tinker against each other, baubles singing against one another as glass collides with glass. 

Musically, it makes no sense—a chaotic force of pings and clinks that roll around the depths of his tunic. There's no rhythm, no tune, no melody. Just a cacophony that he's sure would drive Kenjirou mad. But Satori enjoys it; he likes the natural pandemonium that chimes along his journey.

Not once does he let go.

After all, it's not every day one gets to hitch a ride on the back of a comet.

\--

He's not sure how long he's latched himself to this comet, letting it drag him through dark depths and neglected stars. Not sure how far they've traveled, but it feels like eons; his hands are starting to cramp. 

No matter how many times he switches his grip, releasing the icy tail that runs jagged against his palm, he can't stop the ache in his fingers. With a flex, he stretches his newly freed hand, curling and unfurling his fingers to regain some semblance of feeling. 

The stars that had traveled with him have scattered. One by one, they slip from his tunic, finding their new homes in clusters and families. The moment they settle in, light fills their glassy orbs, filling them with iridescent glows that settle into various shades of reds, oranges, yellows, and sometimes but rarely—blues. 

It's those last ones that shine the brightest. 

The comet continues to hurtle through open pockets of space, and Satori has come across no one new in the indiscernible time that's followed since leaving the safety of his home. For the first time, fear grips his chest, and his fingers tighten against the jagged, icy rock.

What if this had been a mistake? 

What if there's really nothing outside of his galaxy?

Would he be able to find his way back?

"You're fine," he breathes, clutching the neckline of his tunic. "Just calm down." The weak attempt at calming himself barely keeps the panic from leaking at the corners of his eyes, which prick with unshed tears. 

Just as he begins to spiral in self-doubt, guilt, and shame, he sees it. 

A faint shimmer that signals a new boundary—a new galaxy. 

It's barely visible, almost like a wall of distortion that bends the light of the stars behind it. Refracts it so the barrier seems to gleam opalescent. Satori rubs his eyes, blinking as it gets closer and closer with every breath he takes, the comet's momentum showing no signs of slowing its rapid dash. 

Just when it seems like they'll crash, Satori releases his grasp on the tail, and the force propels him forward until he bounces lightly against the barrier, barely catching himself upright. The barrier stretches against his fingertips, elastic under his touch. 

The comet continues to roar in full force, stretching the barrier in until it separates, and it's sucked in, leaving a trail of ice and silence in its wake. A small chunk of ice floats past his line of vision, and Satori blows it in the other direction, watching it somersault away. 

And suddenly, everything feels so still. Satori remains in his position, and as much as he wants to shove through and begin the new phase of his exploration, he remains rooted. He doesn't know what possesses him to do so, but he pushes back, using the barrier to maneuver himself back a few paces. 

The boundary looms over him, stretching endlessly in all directions, and Satori's never felt smaller in his monotonous life. He tilts his head up, then lets loose a breath. There's almost a shyness that surprises him, a tentative lull that keeps him from charging headfirst into the unknown. 

At this point, it's do or don't. 

So he inhales until his lungs are on the brink of bursting, then releases a heavy exhale. Adjusting his tunic, he readies himself, brushing off the last of the stars that tangle in his folds. They clatter together as he jostles them, and turning, he releases them all at once. They bunch together before spreading and dancing in a light circle. And then, they swirl in a bunch of lights, careening into another, much larger cluster, before spinning away. 

Satori watches them for a moment, then blinks away the ghostly imprint of their light. He turns back to the barrier. It's now or never, so he shoves himself forward, and with a miniature 'pop', he's welcomed into a new galaxy. 

\--

It's funny how everything seems so similar. 

From his home galaxy, to the great unknown—all the way to this new galaxy. It's just endless blackness peppered with stars. He'll find the occasional comet, and sometimes, he's tempted to latch onto one, just like before, but a part of him placates the need to rush. Why not take his time to explore a whole new galaxy? 

(Also, he fears that if he latches onto one, he may be pulled out of the galaxy, and he doesn't want to deal with that all over again.)

After all, there should be new planets, new systems, new people—right? Satori continues to polish at another marble. This one feels hot against his skin, and with how stubborn the grime sticks on, Satori entertains the thought of actually spitting onto it to get the cloudy surface to gleam once more. But it begins to clear, and he swallows the thought away.

It's a little mind numbing, if he's honest. There's no one in his vicinity that he knows of. No swirling system to bring him Kenjirou, who would offer him the slightest, snarkiest bit of conversation ever to exist. Even if filled with snippets of criticism and disapproval, Satori would take Kenjirou's scorn over this crushing loneliness. 

So caught up in his thoughts, he just barely notices the dark figure in his periphery. It nearly blends into the background, if not for the shadow that falls along the stars around him. Startled, he throws the half-cleaned star back into place, ignoring the way it fills with an unfinished glow. 

Twisting, he comes face to face with a passing asteroid. One of its craters have sunken in, and there's an unnatural jaggedness that defaces the surface. It wobbles a little, unsteady with the way it moves, and Satori floats closer to gain a better vantage point. 

"Oh, you've been in a crash, haven't you?" he murmurs. Of course, the asteroid doesn't respond. It continues to move past him, and Satori struggles to maintain his speed to follow it. In a way, it becomes a cat and mouse chase, with Satori in pursuit and the asteroid drifting away. 

Finally, with a growl of frustration, Satori latches onto one of the edges and hauls himself on top, crossing his legs as he rides on top. It wobbles with his movements, and he digs his fingers into some of the craters. 

It's nothing he hasn't seen before. He's ridden asteroids back in his galaxy, and most of the time, they're not his favorite mode of travel. Preferring the speed and adrenaline that comes from a comet, Satori normally travelled throughout the expanse of his old galaxy without worry. He'd known every nook and cranny like the back of his hand. Even with the continuous ever-changing shifts of his home, he could occasionally pinpoint Kenjirou's location using a specific cluster of stars. 

Asteroids are slower—there's no doubt about that, and Satori isn't the most patient being in the universe. That much he knows. But in a new and unfamiliar environment, he muses that this may be the best way to go. It'd be like taking a slow tour of his possible new home. That is, if he decides to settle here. 

"Thanks for the ride, buddy," he sighs, and the asteroid teeters in response.

\--

"Oi!" 

The cry startles him, and his heart runs a whole lap when he realizes that the sound hadn't come from his throat. He pushes himself onto his elbows, then scrambles into a sitting position. The asteroid nearly tips over, and Satori shouts as he nearly flips off. Squeezing his eyes shut, he scrabbles for a grip, latching his fingers deeper into the rock.

"Whoa there! Down," the disembodied voice calls, and Satori's not sure if it's addressing him or not, so he continues to latch on, twisting his core so that the asteroid doesn't begin to careen in the opposite direction. "Stiffen your center!" This is definitely aimed at Satori, so he forces the butterflies down his throat and tightens his abdomen.

The asteroid stabilizes, teetering just a bit, but it's a large improvement over the trembling rock. Slowly, Satori cracks open one eye, just enough to make sure he's right-side up. At first, everything is a blur, with his vision twisting just a bit, but then he snaps open his gaze, shaking his head in the hopes that the action will rid him of the vertigo. 

"Are you all right?" The voice comes from behind him, and Satori finally pushes off of the asteroid, remembering that right-side up or upside down, he'd never fall in any direction. He just hovers, and the asteroid hovers with him. Twisting his body, he finds a whole line of asteroids behind him. 

There, at the very front, stands a man. His blue robes, decorated with intricate gold lines, billow out behind him. His dark, coffee-colored skin, shimmers with movement, and he switches his staff from one hand to the other. 

"Who are you?" Satori breathes, and his voice leaves in a croak at having been used for the first time in ages. It doesn't matter to him that it cracks, brittle from the lack of use. His gaze glimmers with wonder, still appalled at meeting another being outside of himself and Kenjirou. 

The stranger cocks his head, and the amused quirk of his lips gains a little worry. "I'm Oohira Reon. But you can call me Reon, if you'd like." Satori nods, forgetting to respond. "And you are?" 

"Right!" Satori exclaims, forgetting himself. He swipes at his tunic, feeling sweat pool in his palms. It's been too long, and normally sociable, he finds himself grasping at rusty straws. "I'm Tendou Satori." Hurriedly, he pulls out his handkerchief and waves it in front of him like a declaration of peace. It sways with movement before blanketing his palm in a pathetic heap. "I clean stars," he adds. 

With that little tidbit of information, Reon's dark gaze brightens, and he hops forward, leaping from asteroid to asteroid. Then, he pushes off until one of the larger ones float toward Satori. He digs his staff into the rock, and it pauses just in front of Satori. A nod signifies Reon's approval, so Satori lands on the same surface. 

It sends a jolt through him. So used to hovering in the middle of darkness, he finds the hard ground a little jarring. Reon offers a hand, and Satori takes it, marveling at the soft skin of his fingers and palm. 

(Kenjirou had never been the most tactile.)

"Are you from this galaxy?" Reon asks after a firm shake. Released, Satori stares down at his palm. 

"Um, no. I'm not. I've just been traveling around—exploring, I guess," he admits. "I'm not even sure where my galaxy is anymore." 

Reon raises his brows in incredulity. "I guess curiosity got the better of you, but that's fine. We're not meant to stay in one place anyway, so welcome to the Milky Way galaxy, or Silver River, or whichever you want to call it." 

Rearing back with surprise, Satori blinks in surprise as Reon trails off at his reaction. At the question that sits on his brows, Satori elaborates, "Sorry, I'm just—I was told that it was against the rules to leave our galaxies." 

At that, Reon releases a genuine, hearty laugh. "That's ridiculous. Makes no sense. One of our own—he cleaned stars too—he just left for another galaxy. What's the point of doing what we do without a little bit of fun, huh?" He turns and hops onto the adjacent asteroid. Swinging his staff in a circle, they all begin to move in the other direction. 

"Where are we going?" Satori calls, settling cross-legged onto the rock. 

"Sit tight. I'll take you to meet some of the others!"

\--

Others.

Plural. 

Meaning more than one.

Satori can’t believe his good luck. Here he is, on the cusp of a new galaxy, and the first man he meets is one who’s happy to listen to him ramble. Kindness and patience weren’t virtues found in Kenjirou, so Reon’s presence is a welcome change. His new friend sits on an asteroid that floats next to Satori, and his chin rests on the heel of his hand, staff lying across his lap.

“So where you’re from, you’ve only met one other?” Reon asks in disbelief. When Satori nods to confirm, Reon sits back with a huff. “I would have gone mad, if I’m honest. I don’t see Hayato and Eita all the time, but once in a while, it’s nice to have some company.” 

Satori cocks his head at the unfamiliar names. “Hayato and Eita?” 

“The two others you’ll meet. We used to have another—Wakatoshi, but he moved to a neighboring galaxy, one greater in size. The big leagues, if you will.” Reon shrugs. “We all knew the day would come, but it was still sad to see him go. It’s for the best, though. We all knew he was meant for bigger and greater things than our small home.” 

“I think your home is lovely.” Satori reaches up to pluck a star from its spot and polishes it before setting it back in place. The glow casts sharp angles across Reon’s face, and the latter looks almost wistful in the light. “And there’s always _something_ to clean, despite what anyone else may say.” 

Reon’s mouth curves into a small smile. “You’ve been doing this for a long time,” he observes, pointing at Satori’s handkerchief. “I can tell with how fast you clean them.” At Satori’s inquiring gaze, he continues, “Wakatoshi was meticulous, which meant every star he cleaned basically _stayed_ clean for a good while, but that also meant he took longer to do his job. You—you just pluck them out of the air and have them back up within the minute.” 

Truth be told, Satori’s never done it a different way, has never considered cleaning in other forms. His habit includes grabbing what’s closest to him, whether it be clean or not, and giving it a quick swipe. Even if they’re already clean, what’s the harm in a little polishing? But it’s also reckless, and he’s had more than a fair share of shattered stars and black holes in his palms. 

It’s why Kenjirou had dubbed him ‘Guess Monster.’ 

He tells Reon so, who chuckles at the nickname, then asks whether it bothers Satori. He shakes his head in response before they fall into a peaceful silence. Reon continues to herd the asteroids in wide curves, streaming around planets of all shapes and sizes, all a dazzling array of colors. There are comets that flash by, leaving only their imprints on the back of Satori’s eyelids. And sometimes, they encounter a second line of asteroids, which Reon gently coaxes into his own herd, leaving others behind. 

“Reon, how do you know which want to stay and which want to go?” he asks as one of the newer asteroids bounces against another in the assembly. “I mean, they all look pretty much the same to me.” 

His friend, who somehow balances on a teetering asteroid, brandishes his staff and nudges the newer asteroid into line. Without fail, it slides into a spot that Reon had created, perfect in size and space. “How do you know which stars to clean?” he counters. “It’s just a gut feeling. Obviously, they can’t speak to me, but I can feel pulls from them. If one wants to join, I’ll feel it tugging for my attention, and I’ll add it into the group. If one wants to leave, the same happens, and I’ll let it go.” 

“That’s...so odd,” Satori says. “Aren’t they just rocks?” Then, cringes at himself for the bluntness that almost fills his words with sarcasm. Luckily, for him, Reon’s probably the most considerate celestial being he’s ever met, even if he’s one in two that Satori’s ever known, and he takes the question in stride. 

“Everything lives, one way or another,” he answers. Turning back, he hops back to his spot next to Satori and crosses his legs as he knocks into one of the craters. At once, they all jerk forward, and Satori scrambles for purchase. Even though there’s absolutely no way he’ll hit his head or collide with ground, he’d still rather not lurch off and careen into the unknown. “We’re all made of the same material, no?”

“I don’t know,” Satori answers honestly. “I don’t know what we’re made of.”

“No worries,” Reon waves him off as he places his staff next to him. Somehow, no matter how much the asteroids wobble, it somehow manages to stay next to his side, as if drawn to his hand. “Existential questions always have their depths, but this one may be a little out of reach.”

Satori wrings his handkerchief, and out of habit, reaches up to grasp a handful of stars as they drift by. Having the warmth in his hands always calms him, and he rolls them across his fingers, taking care to remain gentle. “What do you think we’re made of?” 

Reon sighs, leaning back to put his weight on the heels of his hands. “I’m under the impression that we’re all made of stardust.” Satori eyes the orbs in hand. “Sounds silly, I know, since you would know best, being a caretaker and all.” 

“What makes you think we’re made from stardust?”

“You’ve seen a shattered star before, right? I’ve only seen it a few times, but I’ll never forget the first time. Wakatoshi was meticulous, but, you already know that there’ll always be stars on the brink of death.” He furrows his brows at the memory. “And the first time it happened, it just shattered in his hands. I’ll never forget the colors. All of that held deep in one of those,” Reon explains as he gestures at the orbs that spin in Satori’s hands. “And then the pull; all of those hues liberated and danced. So much beauty.”

Satori listens intently, bobbing his head in agreement. 

“We let the star run its course in death. I never got to tell Wakatoshi this, but I visited it again at some point. And you know what I found? Nebulas and more stars, new and sparkling and ready for the throes of life. I just witnessed it once.” He holds up a finger for emphasis. “But it was enough to convince me that we’re all made of stardust. Who’s to say _we_ weren’t created in the midst of death?” 

The question prods at Satori’s mind, and Reon falls silent. Both process the gravity of the question, for it’s always been at the forefront of Reon’s wonders, whereas Satori has never considered the idea. He’s never wondered at his origins, his beginnings, nor has he thought further into the future to ponder his end. The philosophy of his existence has always evaded him, unlike Reon, who seems to submerge himself in a deep ocean of thought.

“I’ve never…” Satori trails off, and at the sound of his voice, Reon turns back to him with an inquisitive raise of his brows. The words seem to falter on his tongue, and struggling, he tries again. “I've had some shatter back home, and I’ve always thought them to be beautiful at all stages of life. I don’t think I’ve ever thought that deeply, but I don’t doubt you.” 

Reon makes a questioning hum.

“I don’t, really,” Satori insists. “I believe you.”

He falters again, and they continue to drift in a thoughtful silence.

\--

Unlike Reon, Hayato is much sharper around the edges, with equally spiky hair and a razor-edge gaze that cuts through Satori the moment he sets eyes on him. “Oh?” He squints, setting his hand above his eyes as if to block out the light. “Reon, you seem to have herded something new.”

Reon’s eyes twinkle with amusement, and he uses his staff to push himself into standing position. How he manages to stay balanced—Satori will never know. He spreads out his arms in greeting, and Hayato releases the planet that’d spun before him. 

“A sight for sore eyes,” Reon laughs, and Hayato’s grin slices across his face. “I’m still herding asteroids; I’ve just picked up a new friend. A caretaker for the stars.”

“Like Wakatoshi?”

“Exactly like Wakatoshi.”

“But not as meticulous,” Satori pipes up. He pushes himself up, wobbling against the unsteady rock. Bunching his legs, he leaps from one to the other and nearly tumbles off the side. 

How does Reon make it look so easy? He never falters, never stumbles, never falls; his balance is extraordinary, unlike Satori, who’s all limbs and gangly body. Hayato watches him with scrutinization, following his embarrassing trek toward them. To his side, Reon flinches each time Satori’s legs threaten to slip from the asteroids. 

Finally, he gives up and careens off, somersaulting through space until he catches himself. With a sheepish blush that warms his face, he floats over to them, and with a little help from Reon, manages to stop in front of the duo. 

“Hi,” he says, clearing his throat. The burn doesn’t leave his cheeks and continues to spread down his neck. “I’m Satori.”

“Well, Satori,” Hayato greets, brows raised to his hairline. “That was some entrance you made.” 

The embarrassment burns hotter than any star he’s ever cleaned, including those blue ones that sometimes catch him off-guard and threaten burns across his palms. He palms the back of his neck and exhales a laugh. 

“You should’ve seen him the first time I saw him,” Reon says, gesturing at him with a flourish. The top of his staff taps against Satori’s head, fond as if he’s one of his asteroids. “Slumped over a stray asteroid. I thought I was seeing things, ‘cause what are the chances I’d find another celestial being in our galaxy other than you and Eita?” 

Hayato shrugs, then pushes out a hand. “Nice to meet you, man. It’s been a really, and I mean _really_ , long time since we’ve seen a new face around here. Hope you’ll like it here, if you decide to stay, of course.” He leans in and narrows his eyes, trying to gauge Satori’s reaction, but the latter is so rattled by the invitation, he grabs his hand with both of his. 

Giving it a vigorous shake, he exclaims, “Of course! Where I come from, it’d only been me and one other, Kenjirou, so it’s nice to meet new people.” Hayato’s expression shifts to amusement as Satori releases his hand, and he hovers back. “That’s part of the reason I left.” 

The other two appear surprised at his admission, and Satori realizes he’d never told Reon about his reason for leaving. “I wanted to meet new people and explore more,” he tries to elaborate with a shrug. 

“Well, whatever your reason,” Reon starts, “you’re here already. You’re welcome to come with me if you want to learn how to shepherd along the way, or you can stay with Hayato. He’ll probably end up getting you to do all the planetary dirty work, though.” 

“I will not!” 

They begin a brotherly bicker, and as Satori’s gaze bounces between them, he can’t help the gurgle of laughter that wells from his chest. It bubbles from his mouth, and he claps his hands across his nose when he lets out a massive snort. The other two falter, but the quirks of their mouths give them away. 

“What about the third person?” Satori asks, chuckling. “You mentioned an Eita?” 

As the name flutters from his lips, Reon and Hayato fall silent, and the air stiffens between the trio. Hayato’s hands curl into fists, just as Reon glances away, the corner of his mouth twitching with unsaid words. Satori feels ice creep through his limbs; has he said something wrong? Whatever he’d said, it’d shattered the good atmosphere between them. 

Reon shifts his staff from one hand to the other. “I think,” he finally breathes, “it might be better for you to come with me next time I’m around. Maybe it’d be best to have him stay with you?” He directs the question to Hayato, who watches him mutely, lips pulled thin. 

“Wait, guys, I’m sorry,” Satori panics. He doesn’t know what he's apologizing for; all he knows is that he’d blundered with his question. “Was I not supposed to mention him?”

Hayato puffs out a breath, places both hands behind his neck, and cranes back, touching his elbows to one another. “No, no. It’s cool. It’s just...Eita’s lonely.” 

“In the worst possible way,” Reon adds. “He can’t move as freely as we can. He’s stuck where he is. All of us try to keep him company whenever possible, but it used to be much easier with Wakatoshi, whose duty made it easy for him to travel freely.” 

“It’s difficult because we all have our own responsibilities. Reon can’t stay in one place too long; there are innumerable objects that shift in and out of place that he aligns. I have planets to care for, to help keep them in balance,” Hayato explains. 

Their implication dawns on Satori, who immediately understands what they’re asking. He points to himself. “I could be his friend,” he blurts out, startling the two. “I can stay by his side when you can’t. Keep him company, if he’s all right with it.” 

Truthfully, he’d been excited to get Reon’s offer of travel. After all, his entire reason for leaving home had been to explore the universe. At the same time, he can’t quash the curiosity and pity he now holds for a man he’d never met. Stuck in one place? That would probably make the top of his list of personal nightmares. 

Reon and Hayato exchange looks, then the former gives him a dubious raise of his brows. “Are you sure? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You’re still welcome to come with me.” 

Satori is waving him off before he even finishes. “It’s fine. Besides, I can polish a few stars while around. Has it been long since Wakatoshi left?” 

“It’s been a while,” Hayato says slowly. “Are you sure you’re all right with staying in one area for a bit? I mean, you won’t be confined, so you’ll still have the ability to go wherever you want, whenever you want.” 

Satori bobs his head. “I really don’t mind. Besides, I can’t thank you enough for acting so kind when I’m an utter stranger.” 

“Well, there aren’t a lot of us out there,” Hayato says, motioning to the empty space around them. “We have to stick together, or else we’ll go mad.”

Mad?

Suddenly, Satori feels a pang of regret for leaving Kenjirou, yet his taciturn friend hadn’t ever indicated that he wanted a friend. Or perhaps, Satori wasn’t the kind of companion he wanted. It seems more plausible that he’d get along with someone less wiry and strange. 

Inwardly, he hopes another star caretaker will find their way to his old home. 

“So,” he begins, settling one hand on his hip, other swaying by his side, “when do I get to meet this Eita?” 

\--

Neither Hayato or Reon are able to give him a formal introduction, the latter feeling a tug in his stomach to edge toward the opposite direction, asteroids in need of alignment. Hayato, on the other hand, soon becomes preoccupied with a crack that threatens to divide one of his planets in two. In his haste, the planetary caretaker gestures rapidly toward one direction before bemoaning the jagged chasm that splits between two mountainous regions. 

And so, Satori drifts in that general direction, hoping to catch a gaze of the delicate, yet luminous being who wears loneliness on the tip of his fierce scowl. It’d been an odd description, yet Reon’s fondness, Hayato’s loyalty, and their combined pity are enough to pique his interest. 

When he doesn’t find the strange enigma immediately, he changes tactics: instead of searching, he’ll take his time cleaning neglected stars along the way. It’s evident that Wakatoshi had left a while back, dirt and grime coating the little baubles that dangle on velvet canvases. 

The first time he sees him, he's scrubbing at an orb the size of his palm. It's warm to the touch and worn against his fingertips. There are long cracks along the surface, white with age. Some long, some short, but they all sit in harmony with one another. 

It's been handled with care. Though rough from years of use and wear, he handles it with delicacy, balancing it with one hand and rubbing the glassy surface with his handkerchief. There's no sheen along its appearance, just a coarseness that’s common in well-loved stars. 

“Who are you?”

The introduction of a new but equally coarse voice startles him, neither smooth like Reon nor witty like Hayato, and his hands nearly lose their composure, tightening until he remembers the gentleness that comes with the job. If he shatters it, who knows what consequences might occur? It’s evidently important, judging by the planets that orbit it. 

With rapid awareness, he releases the star before it can shatter in his fingers, eyes blown wide as he exhales through his nose, keeping a watchful gaze on the star. When he’s certain it’ll remain unharmed, albeit still coated in a fine but stubborn layer of dust, he sighs in relief before glancing up. 

Then, abruptly freezes. 

Because the descriptions Reon and Hayato had given him are anemic compared to the incandescent being that perches on the edge of his seat. His skin is milky, pale and luminous against his craterous home, back pressed against the moon’s crescent grin. Layers of soft, gauzy fabric make up his tunic, and they drape along his slim form in fluttering silver waves. There’s an intensity to the sharpness of his eyes, framed by high cheekbones under a head of ash blond hair, and Satori’s gaze is drawn to the odd, dark tips that brush against his angular face. 

When he opens his mouth to respond, a croak escapes his dry lips, and he snaps his jaw shut again. In response, the ethereal man arches an impeccable brow, cocking his head, and the long silver strips of his earrings curl over one shoulder. 

“You’re Eita,” Satori chokes, suddenly glad he’s no longer holding the star because his handkerchief is fisted in his hand, crumpled under clammy fingers. 

“Yes,” the magnificent being sits back, crossing strong arms over his chest. “But that’s not what I asked you.” 

“Name, right!” Satori clears his throat and forces his fingers to loosen their death grip on his handkerchief. Without it, he’s practically useless, and while there’s the possibility that it’ll never tear or that it’ll just repair itself, he’s not in the right mood to test out the theories. “Nice to meet you. I’m Satori.” 

“Satori…” The way Eita says his name, lips curling around the single word and tasting it on his tongue, elicits an imperceptible shudder that zips down his back. “How long have you been here?” The question is accompanied with a curious twist of his mouth, as if perplexed at himself for not realizing that their galaxy had a new celestial caretaker. 

There’s a moment of silence where Satori thinks back to the moment he’d punctured his way into the Milky Way galaxy, on the precipice of losing his mind and hope at finding a new home, or more importantly, a new friend—potentially family. 

His heart pounds at the thought, rising and tumbling like a gymnast. 

Palming the back of his neck, he smooths down the small hairs on his nape. “Not long,” he admits, and Eita looks satisfied with the answer, soothed by his admission. “I met Reon by accident.” 

Eita sits forward, setting his elbows against his knees, chin propped on the heel of one hand, the other slung over his thighs. “Accident?” he prompts. 

“He found me drifting on an unstable asteroid,” Satori explains. A grimy star floats past him, and he makes a face, resisting the urge to pluck it from the air. It’d be rude to Eita, who notices the change but doesn’t comment on it. Soon enough, it disappears among an equally dusty cluster.

Just how long has it been since Wakatoshi's departure? 

“It’s been a while,” Eita supplements, as if he’d poked into Satori’s head to read his fleeting thought. When Satori stares, Eita nods toward the dirty cluster, then gestures at a few beyond it. “Wakatoshi left a while back—I assume Reon or Hayato told you about him?” 

He bobs his head in affirmation. Of course they had. Again, his gaze flits away from Eita’s form to the bothersome clusters. They spin, twisting and careening, as if laughing at his evident discomfort at leaving them in their current state. It’s almost mocking.

“Go.” The word snags his attention, and Eita shrugs, gesturing toward the stars. His face remains impassive, but Satori can see the slight downturn at the corners of his mouth. Disappointment. “I don’t want to distract you from your work.” 

Something about the way he hunches over catches Satori’s attention. It’s as if he’s accustomed to dismissal, to abandonment for duty. The thought of his prevalent loneliness brings forth the memory of his travels after leaving home, and he remembers the pangs of desolation that’d plagued his journey. Opening his mouth, he prepares to continue their conversation, but Eita has already turned away, curling into his crescent, eyes fluttering shut as if he’s about to nap. 

With that, Satori snaps his mouth shut, and with a final, lingering glance on the guardian of the moon, he twists his body and leaves, fingers clenching and unclenching his handkerchief.

\--

“I like having company,” Satori blurts after dashing a star against his tunic. Eita’s moon is half full, so he’s sitting on the edge, feet slung over the plump edge of his home. His legs are pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around his knees as he pokes at the surface, creating deep craters. 

His exclamation startles Eita, who jolts at the sound of his voice, which is admittedly a little loud and reverberates, sending vibrations tumbling across the air. His flinch causes his finger to dig deeply into the fragile surface, and a small plume of dust rises from the point of contact. The disapproving cluck of his tongue is equally loud, a little vicious, actually, and Satori sets the star back into place. 

“What was that?” Eita grunts, trying to cover his mistake by dusting over the crater. 

It doesn’t work, and Eita lets out another annoyed cluck of his tongue. 

“I, uh, I like talking to people,” Satori says. He floats closer, tucking his handkerchief back into his tunic. Eita glances up at him, dark eyes assessing his gangly figure, and Satori resists the urge to dash and hide his face behind a planet. Preferably that small, red one because it’s just so neat. 

“Clearly,” Eita mumbles, but the irritation is quick to bleed from his expression, and he sighs, leaning his head against his knees. His cheek squashes against the top, pulling at his face, and the inelegance of it surprises Satori, who’d deemed Eita to be one of the most delicate looking beings he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting. 

His fingers twitch. “I can go, though,” Satori offers. “If I’m bothering you, I can just go.” It goes against what Reon and Hayato had told him, but maybe Satori had misconstrued their message. Maybe ‘be friends with him’ doesn’t completely correlate with ‘bother the living hell out of him.’ His gut clenches at the thought of annoying Eita.

A breve of silence. 

Satori’s about to take the lack of response as an affirmation when Eita shakes his head, mussing his hair. His earrings dangle and titter with movement, reflecting the faint light and twinkling against Eita’s cheekbones like his own, personal swinging stars. He mumbles something barely audible, and Satori floats just a little closer.

“What was that?” 

Eita sucks in his lips before turning away so that all Satori can see is the strange array of his hair. “You don’t bother me,” he repeats gruffly. With another heavy exhale, he settles his chin on his knees, rubbing away the flush that comes with settling his cheek atop of something solid. Though, if the flush comes from something else—Satori isn’t opposed to the thought. 

“You don’t have to be courteous about it,” Satori teases, carding a hand through his wild locks, still not sure how to handle himself around this enigma. 

At that, Eita scowls deeply, akin to the first time they’d met. Though this time, it’s not aimed at him; instead, he scowls forward, frustration lost in the large vacuum of space. “I’m not,” he snaps. “I’m just—I’m not used to this.” 

“What? Conversing? Normal conversations?”

Even though he’s poking light fun, he feels a pang of guilt when Eita’s face twists into something forlorn before disappearing under an impassive mask. It’d been a flicker of vulnerability, yet Satori had apparently hit a nerve. 

“Hey,” he tries, when Eita clams up even further. “I didn’t mean that.” Drifting closer, he stops a foot away from his neighbor. When the downward curl of Eita’s mouth persists, Satori curses himself and shifts in discomfort. “That was insensitive of me.” 

Eita snorts. “So they told you.” By they, the pair know he’s referring to Reon and Hayato. Eita twists his head back to Satori, who freezes at the intensity in his eyes. There’s something sharp that gleams in those dark irises, as if testing each and every word that escapes Satori’s lips. 

“Yes.” 

He can assume he knows exactly what Eita’s talking about: his position and unfortunate circumstances. 

“And what do you think?”

“Does it matter what I think? That’s not the reason I’m here, if that’s what you’re trying to glean out of me.” 

“What? So you’re here because you want to be?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” 

The rebound question catches Eita off guard, and he grumbles into his tunic, long fingers smoothing down the gauzy material. 

“I’m not here out of pity,” Satori continues to explain. He returns to the task at hand and pulls another star from its cluster, blowing against the glass and ignoring the way Eita’s gaze burns into the side of his neck. “If anything, I think I get it more than anyone else.” 

The grime on this one is stubborn and filmy, and Satori rubs a finger over the solidified neglect, feeling it smear a little. Now, it’s his turn to scowl, and he pulls out his handkerchief to dab at it. While he does so, he continues to speak, “Where I came from, I didn’t have a ‘Reon’ or a ‘Hayato,’ like you do—” He chances a glance at Eita, who watches him curiously. “I had a ‘Kenjirou’ and he never liked to talk very much, preoccupied with duties and whatnot. Outside of him, I’d never met anyone else.” 

“No one,” Eita deadpans, disbelief framing his words. 

“No one,” Satori confirms. Pausing, he lifts his head, crossing his legs so that he can hover comfortably, and the orb of light dims in his palms, light dying between his fingers. “Hard to believe, right? But it’s true. I was my only friend, if that makes sense.” 

Silence.

He takes that time to return to his job, lightly pulling the handkerchief against the smooth surface until it practically sparkles, even without its natural light. Rolling it between his index finger and thumb, he slides it back into place to watch it fill with an old, red glow. 

“Is that so?” Eita murmurs.

“Yeah.” 

\--

He gets it. He completely gets Eita’s unfortunate setting.

He understands where his bitterness comes from, how his pessimism is justified.

After all, even if he’d been lonely at his old home—with the exception of very infrequent Kenjirou visits—he’d had free reign in travel. He’d been able to drift back and forth, to and from the edges of his galaxy. Aside from Kenjirou though, he hadn’t met another being like Reon, Hayato, or Eita, who made up their own version of found family.

In truth, he’d overlooked Reon and Hayato’s open armed reception. They had been ready to accept new friends, so he’d forgotten that a warm welcome doesn’t apply to everyone. God knows how long it would take for anyone to thaw the ice around Kenjirou’s frozen heart, so while he’s a little nervous about Eita’s reluctance on his part, he knows it might take some (re: possibly a lot) of time for him to accept Satori into his realm. 

So he continues to do his job, flitting from one cluster to another, aware of the singular, curious gaze that follows him. From this, he learns that Eita isn’t shy; he’s taciturn, and there’s a difference. A stark one that makes itself well known when Satori turns to find Eita staring point blank at him; the latter doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t turn away like others do when they’re caught staring. 

For a moment, they simply watch each other, and regrettably, it’s Satori who loses the staring contest when the cluster of stars he’s working on begin to tinker against one another in a playful tune. 

Later, when he twists his chin over his shoulder, Eita’s no longer watching him, now preoccupied with the planet his moon orbits. 

\--

“It’s called Earth,” Eita says when Satori floats around the blue and green orb. It’s odd—that’s for one, and when he peers closely, he takes in the bustle of movement that’s barely perceptible to his naked eye. At Eita’s voice, he jerks, twirling on his heel to gaze wide-eyed at the celestial being. 

Eita sits cross-legged on the full moon, leaning forward to peer down through the murky clouds. His earrings dangle forward, swinging through the air in leisurely movements. One sleeve of his tunic slips down his shoulder, revealing a pale expanse of skin, milky and pearlescent. The hint of a bicep pokes out, lean and strong. Satori tears his eyes away to direct his focus back to the planet, clearing his throat. 

“Does Hayato take care of this one too?”

“He takes care of all of the planets,” Eita states easily. His elbows are situated on his knees, interlaced fingers propping his head up. “Though, he has a love-hate relationship with this particular one.” 

Satori arches a brow. “Why’s that?”

“Those—” Eita hefts his chin toward the planet. “The people that live there. They’re fascinating to us all, but Hayato finds it difficult to maintain a balance with them. Says they’re ‘destructive yet beautiful’—his words, verbatim. In a way, they’re destroying their home, yet they’re simultaneously beautifying it.” 

“And what do you think?” 

There’s a moment of silence as Eita mulls over the answer, then shrugs. “The same, I guess. It’s difficult to find a balance with Earth, but I’m also biased. If I’m honest, I’m a little fond—after all, I push and pull the tides. Watch.” 

He lifts his hands, elegant fingers weaving through the air, and Satori watches as the cerulean that carpets the orb begins to shift. It’s barely perceptible, but then he realizes that with each gentle pull of Eita’s fingers, the seas follow, as if beckoned by the wave of his fingers. And when he releases, the oceans slide back into place, as if exhaling a breathy sigh. 

“You control the tides?”

Eita nods. “What I just showed you was a more...direct form of controlling the tides. Normally, it’s very instinctual—the water follows every breath I take, every inhale, exhale—everything.” He pauses, hand dropping to his side to dig a finger into the surface. “Has Reon told you that he thinks we’re made from stardust?”

Satori drifts closer, crossing his legs in the air to mimic Eita’s position, and the closer he gets to the planet, the more he realizes that it moves in tandem with Eita’s breathing, as if tethered to his life force. “He may have mentioned it.” 

Eita scoffs. “I know an euphemism when I hear one. So Reon’s already given you his existential spiel.” 

“Yeah.” Satori flicks his gaze back to Eita, who leans back, setting his palms on the craterous surface. “Do you believe him—about all of us being made from stardust?”

With a puff of air, Eita bites at his bottom lip, and Satori can practically feel his percolating thoughts. “I’d go even further than that,” he finally admits, tilting his head back to reveal the long, pale column of his neck. There’s a bit of an opalescent sheen that emits from his skin, reflecting the stars that spin on iron cores. “I think I come from stardust and moonlight.” 

Satori doesn’t disagree.

But Eita continues, unaware that Satori’s still watching him intently. “It would explain why I’m connected to this place, why I’m so attached to this specific planet.” Then, more quietly. “Why I’m stuck here.” When he exhales next, he visibly deflates, shoulders hooking forward. 

A breve of silence passes, heavy and hanging. With a split second decision, Satori glides forward without thought and settles next to him, feeling the odd, dusty surface brush against his skin in a light film. Eita startles at the contact, eyes going wide in a bit of shock and disbelief. He squirms when Satori sets a hand on his shoulder, who feels the warm, dry skin against his palm. 

No other words exchange between them, and gradually, Eita relaxes into Satori’s hold. When he loosens up, Satori drops his hand, letting it fall to his side, where his fingers graze against the cold, rough surface. It feels like a break in their tentative friendship, and while he’s not totally sure about Eita, Satori discovers that he enjoys this comfortable silence between them. 

Eita also hasn’t shoved him off, so that’s progress enough for Satori. 

“I can get off, if you’d like,” Satori offers, in case he’s pressed his new friend too far. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, since this is—” He motions at the moon they’re perched on. “—somewhat small.”

When Eita doesn’t respond immediately, expression unnervingly blank, Satori prepares to stand. He’s intruded enough—talking had been a good step, but this? Perhaps this is too intimate; maybe he’s pushed Eita too far—

“It’s fine.” Eita’s whisper is quiet, and his knee feels rough with gauzy material as it brushes against Satori’s thigh. He pulls up his legs to his chest and wraps his arms around them, settling his chin on his knees, and Satori scoots away to give his friend some space. 

Slowly, but surely, they’ll reach a point of comfort. 

\--

"Do you regret leaving?" Eita asks, leaning back to fit along the moon's slight crescent curl. His earrings dangle in silver strips, curling at the curve of his shoulder. "After all, it was your home." No accusation layers his tone, only curiosity. 

Satori ponders on the question, shifting his position on the moon's bottom tip. He's asked himself that question multiple times, had it rattle through his being even as he rode on the comet's tail, its trail digging into his palms. 

"No," he says slowly, carefully. "I don't."

The only indication of surprise on Eita's features is a raise of his brow. "Do you miss it?" he follows up.

At that, Satori chuckles. "Of course," he laughs quietly, then sighs and leans back with his hands gripping the edge in front of him. "But you know," he continues, "Home will always be precious to me. I'll always have memories associated with it, and they'll always be there. But I'm a firm believer that you're meant to build on those memories. Just because I cherish them doesn't mean I can't make more I'll come to love." 

Eita nods slowly, thoughtfully. “What’s your fondest memory, so far?”

That’s a loaded question, and Satori pauses in his cleaning. Lowering the star to his lap, he lets it sit on his tunic, folding the handkerchief to his thigh. He purses his lips, brows furrowing as he thinks through his time in his past galaxy. 

“I’d have to say,” he starts slowly. Eita watches him, one leg swinging along the curve of the moon, the other pulled up casually. “I have many—”

“Oh, that’s not fair,” Eita complains, and Satori cracks a grin at the faux irritation that lines his face. “You can’t answer like that!” 

“Says who?” Satori challenges, chuckling at the indignance that flashes across Eita’s face. If there’s one thing he’s learned about his friend—and he’s learned many things—it’s that Eita has a short temper, a stark contrast to Reon’s soothing personality. His sense of humor isn’t as brash as Hayato’s, but there’s a certain wit to him that Satori can’t help but tease. 

In return, Eita scowls, crossing his arms, petulance on display.

“Ok, ok,” Satori placates, still trying to hold back his amusement. With a sigh, he leans forward to set his head on the heel of his hand. “Honestly, it’s a difficult question ‘cause I like to think of my life in segments, you know? I have a favorite memory in each epoch, so it’s hard for me to choose one that’s more precious than the others.” 

Eita doesn’t release his arms, but understanding flits across his sharp features. “Then...tell me some of them? Whichever you feel like sharing? If you don’t mind, of course.” 

Reaching down, Satori pinches the glass star lightly, rolling it. “I don’t have anything to hide.” He shrugs. “In my previous galaxy, my fondest memory would be coming across Kenjirou when he was humming. Mundane—I know, but if you’ve ever met him, he’s the most taciturn being you’ll have ever met. Yes, even more than you—”

“I’m not taciturn!” 

“I’m only kidding, partly. But Kenjirou isn’t the most open, so to hear him hum was...shocking? He put up with my blabbering—that should tell you that I made up most of the conversations—but I remember that I was too surprised to say anything. So I just spent my time around him while he hummed.” He swiped his handkerchief across the star, leaving a bright streak. “It wasn’t a momentous occasion, but it was nice. Just having someone with me, even through song...it was nice,” he repeats.

With it clean, he blows lightly on it and sets it back in place, letting it fill with a bright hue. “On my journey here, my favorite part would be riding on the tail of a comet. The rush of it all, the adrenaline and wonder—it was like soaring. So different from casually floating around. That was amazing.” A wistfulness unknowingly climbs into his tone as he thinks back to the way he’d hurtled through the darkness, fingers twisted through its icy tail. 

“You rode on a comet?” Eita echoes in disbelief. “How…?”

“I didn’t technically ride it,” Satori laughs. “I latched onto the tail and hitched a ride. I don’t think I’d be able to ride on top of one, even if I wanted to. My balance, according to Reon, is abhorrent, which brings me to my next favorite memory.” 

Whatever Eita’s about to say pauses on the tip of his tongue, and Satori can already tell from his scrunched expression that it was going to be something snarky. Nevertheless, he continues when Eita gestures at him to keep going.

“This is going to sound cheesy, but I really cherish the moment I entered this galaxy. In truth, I was kind of scared, you know? New place, new planets, new guardians, new potential caretakers—I was afraid that I wouldn’t really be accepted. Luckily, that didn’t happen, and Reon found me and took me under his wing. Then I met Hayato, then you, and it’s been great.” He ends awkwardly, not meeting Eita’s piercing gaze. 

When he doesn’t continue, Eita speaks up. “Do you have anymore?” 

Yes.

“No,” Satori answers, quirking the corner of his mouth in a teasing manner he _knows_ can and will get on Eita’s nerves. He stifles the laugh in his throat and plucks another star from its place, letting the light drain from it before beginning to clean it. 

He’s not going to tell Eita one of his most treasured memories: his first time meeting the man on the moon himself. He’s not going to tell him how beautiful he’d looked perched on the moon, leaning into the Cheshire grin with composed curiosity and suspicion. And he’s definitely _not_ going to tell him that he’s the most beautiful being Satori’s ever had the pleasure of meeting. 

So he decides to change the subject. 

“That’s all you’re getting from me right now,” Satori says, then cocks his head over to Eita. “And you? What’s your fondest memory?” 

Eita shifts so that one arm falls to his side, fingers coiled in a way that's akin to gliding them through the oceans that he controls. “My favorite memory,” he muses.

“You can’t expect to ask me for mine and not return the favor,” Satori points out, gleeful when Eita’s scowl deepens. 

“Shut up,” he snaps without venom, then cards a hand through his hair with a deep exhale. “I don’t have many since I can’t...well, you know. But it’d have to be the few times everyone could be here. Once in a while, Reon and Hayato’s duties would coincide here, as well as Wakatoshi’s, and we’d just all...talk. That’s it—just spend time in each other’s company, and that was it.”

Simple. 

To anyone else, it would seem oversimplified, but Satori knows that with Eita’s condition, having someone around means a lot to him. 

“I can get that,” Satori says after setting the star into place. He tilts his body back until he’s lying flat on his back, both hands folded behind his head, twisting through his scarlet locks. “I enjoyed spending time with Kenjirou back home, even if he probably didn’t feel the same.” 

What comes out of Eita’s mouth next, surprises him. “Don’t say that,” Eita says, light admonishment in his tone. “What we do—everything that we do—involves so much loneliness. I think anyone who cares for the universe would appreciate the company. I know I do.”

Satori nearly drops his form, barely catching himself. When he chances a glance toward Eita, the other man is staring away from him, cheek resting against his pulled up legs as he stubbornly stares away. While Eita’s not the most vocally emotional, Satori can hear the quiet gratitude layering his words. 

Feeling warmth rush through his cheeks and down his chest, Satori sits forward and cracks a smile. “I appreciate the company too.”

\--

“Do you know what constellations are?” Eita asks suddenly, startling Satori as he palms the cluster of stars at his chest. They tinker against one another in a tuneless melody, their mindless harmony still pleasant to Satori’s ears. It’s a sound he’s accustomed to, like wind chimes that ring and echo across the air. Before catastrophe can strike, Satori stabilizes, fingers tightening around the glass marbles. 

“I don’t believe so.” 

There’s no rush to his words, to their conversation—they’ve already spent most of their time together. Satori could venture out to other areas of this wondrous galaxy, but that would mean leaving Eita behind, and while his decision isn’t made from pity, it feels wrong to leave his friend alone. 

“It’s something the people on Earth see when they look into the sky,” Eita explains. At Satori’s confused frown, he flushes. “They look for shapes in the stars.” 

“Is that so?” Bemused, Satori glances down at his handful. To think they’d offer anything outside of light, beauty, and warmth. He gives them a brief but gentle shake, sending another wordless tune into the air. A small smile curls on Eita’s lips at the jingle. “Like what?” 

“Many things.” Eita scoots forward. The crescent in his moon is deeper, and he shuffles closer to the edge, eagerness perking in his gaze. “The one you’re working on—they call that one Cassiopeia, after a vain queen who boasted about her beauty.” 

Releasing a startled laugh, Satori finishes his placement and moves to join Eita on the edge of the moon, where his friend makes room. Their thighs brush as Satori settles on the uneven surface, shoulders knocking together, and the space between them fills with their light breathing and the light jingling of Eita’s bracelets. 

“Why would they name a shape after a vain queen, of all things?” he questions. 

Eita shrugs. “Who knows? But there are others!” He gestures toward a smaller constellation, fingers ghosting the invisible links between the small orbs. “That one there—that one’s Lyra, named after a lyre owned by a musician, whose music was so beautiful that it could charm anyone and anything.” 

Satori listens as Eita continues to point out other figures, naming them in tandem with their old tales. He speaks of heroes and tragedies, or gods and goddesses, in those invisible shapes. And there are so many that Satori can barely keep up, but he doesn’t have the heart to ask him to slow down or start over.

No.

He’s content with hearing the excitement and enthusiasm slowly percolate through Eita’s tone. If possible, it makes him glow even brighter, a newfound gleam in his eye and a small smile that inches across his cheeks. Even with the way his hands gesture with an unknowing eagerness, Satori barely glances in those directions, too preoccupied with the luminescent loveliness that radiates from him. 

“Which is your favorite?” Satori asks in the lull of Eita’s explanation. The latter’s brows rise in startlement, mouth dropping into a small ‘o’ as he ponders on this question, like no one’s ever asked him this before. Satori waits, wrapping his fingers around the point of the moon’s crescent, thumb rubbing over the tip. 

Eita touches the side of his face in thought before timidly pointing at a small cluster of stars, three of them sitting in a row. “That one.”

“Orion’s Belt?” Satori remembers. He twists to observe the three points hanging off the midnight canvas. “Why that one?” 

“Because,” Eita starts slowly, a little hesitant, “it’s there whenever I look up. Almost like a companion, if that makes any sense. I don’t have to worry about it not being there, ever.” 

Satori’s heart sinks a little at the admission, rolling through his stomach in discomfort. The extent of Eita’s loneliness reveals itself to be deeper than he’d initially expected. To have a constellation as his main point of comfort in friendship—while he can somewhat understand the isolation, he can’t imagine how caged his friend must feel. 

A thought strikes him, and he nearly cricks his neck in his rush to stare at Eita with wide eyes. “Have you considered...have you ever tried leaving?” 

“I’d be lying if I said I never considered it.” Eita sighs, hunching forward as if ashamed of his answer. “But I can’t—I shouldn’t. If I leave, who knows what’ll happen to the moon, to Earth? Besides, I learned quite early on that I can’t float like you or Reon or Hayato. I’m stuck here, no matter how badly I’d like to visit the others or see that stupid red dot that Hayato constantly talks about.” 

There’s longing that rings in his words, practically ingrained and embossed with each syllable he breathes. To anyone else, he’d sound casual and guarded, but to Satori, he can hear more. 

To break the atmosphere between them, Satori pats his knee and gestures at the cluster of stars he’d just cleaned. “How about those?” he tries. 

Even though the faint sadness doesn’t leave Eita’s eyes, he chuckles and humors him. “Those are too dark for the people to see, so they haven’t given it a shape or a name.” 

“What?” Satori squawks. “But I cleaned them so nicely! They should be bright enough for Kenjirou or Wakatoshi to see from other galaxies.” 

It’s a total exaggeration, complete garbage. Nevertheless, it succeeds in making Eita laugh, and for Satori, that’s enough.

\--

In between taking care of stars and cleaning them, alongside conversing with Eita about everything and nothing, Satori spends his time observing Earth more carefully.

What he finds surprises him enough to keep him preoccupied enough to forget his duty. Everything about Earth is fascinating. Outside of the humans Eita had mentioned and Hayato had bemoaned, there are other living beings.

He finds animals of all shapes and sizes, in various places. Some that swing through dense jungles along thick vines, others that lurk in the deepest depths of the oceans, warmed only by the barest hint of light. 

Even more interesting are the structures, both natural and manmade that rise from the Earth. There are waterfalls that cascade crystallic streams into rushing rivers, trees that resemble giants and tower over humans and buildings altogether, and so much more that catches Satori’s eye. 

Whenever Eita naps, eyes fluttering shut to rest against the curve of his home, Satori takes his break, drifting to the planet to observe and learn more about the land that tethers Eita to his place. 

And when his friend wakes, he returns to his duty, pretending he’d spent the entire time swiping his handkerchief against the murky stars. 

If Eita suspects anything, he doesn’t mention it, and for that, Satori is grateful.

\--

“What is this?” Eita asks groggily, rubbing at his eyes. His hair remains a mess, mussed through with carding fingers that sift through his disarray of locks, ashy tips a dark contrast against the silver of the moon. When he doesn’t respond, Eita sits up in alarm, realization settling on his expression. “Satori, what’s going on?” 

“I’ll put it all back!” Satori exclaims, grin splitting his face. “Just play along. I promise, I’ll put everything back!” 

In his arms, the stars sing against one another, glass tapping a cheery tune as Satori flits from one place to the other. Excitement rolls off of him like waves, practically palpable, and even Eita’s alarm isn’t enough to dim his enthusiasm. 

“Why…?” Eita splutters, still taken aback. Satori understands his confusion. If he’d woken up to a dark patch of the sky, completely devoid of stars or lights, he’d gape and panic as well. But it’s not like they’ve disappeared from view—no, they’ve only been gathered and cradled in Satori’s caring arms. He’d spent enough time around them to know their levels of fragility. 

Satori shushes him, still beaming. “I have an idea.” 

“What...?” Eita’s mouth flaps open, staring in astonishment. 

“Just play along, Eita,” Satori groans, resisting the urge to rake a hand through his hair, knowing that his jostle may very well shatter the more fragile stars. “Trust me on this.” 

Eita eyes the bundle of stars in trepidation, still evidently apprehensive of Satori’s idea, but he finally relents with a gradual, jerky nod. “Fine.” 

“Great!” Satori exclaims. He pushes off his feet to drift toward the empty canvas, excitement thrumming against his ribcage. He’d been planning this for a while now, ever since Eita had explained what constellations were; the idea of creating shapes through someone’s imagination had been tempting enough to try out with Eita.

Humans have to rely on their imagination, but Satori, with his ability to rearrange the stars to his favor, has more flexibility and mobility.

He places one star in place, then drifts over and begins to settle the rest in place, trying his best to replicate some of the sights he’d seen on Earth. It takes longer than expected, but with a few final details, he drifts back, dusting off his arms and tunic. Slowly, the stars fill with a gentle glow, not blinding like they normally are, unaccustomed to their new positions.

Both fists on his hips, he turns to face Eita, whose face is scrunched with confusion. “They aren’t in their right places,” he manages to utter, lifting a finger to trace against the invisible lines. 

“Of course they aren’t,” Satori huffs, then throws out an arm to trace the stars. “But they still represent something!” 

At that, comprehension dawns on Eita’s face, and the corners of his mouth quirk in amusement as his hand falls to his side. “Am I supposed to guess?” His voice shakes, trembling with restrained laughter. 

“That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do!” Satori bobs his head furiously, tracing over the lines again. “I’ll draw it out for you this time, but that’s the only hint you’re going to get!” He does it once more, emphasizing the faint lines. 

“Is it...a tree?” Eita guesses. “It looks like an oak tree.”

At that, Satori’s stumped. He knows trees—Eita had taken some time to explain what their existence meant to the world—but he hadn't known there were different types. With a hum, he palms the back of his neck and scratches it lightly. “It’s a tree, but I don’t know about ‘oak’.” 

Shifting them, he thinks hard about the image in mind and hopes his interpretation is enough for Eita to guess. He’d done decently enough for Eita to guess ‘tree’ his first time around, but this time, he’s not giving any hints, nor is he completely sure his stars will be in the right place. 

The moment he pulls away, Eita squints and lifts his hand, tracing through the dimly lit stars. He mumbles his guesses to himself, and Satori glances to his somewhat-poor rendition of an animal. 

“A rabbit?” Eita guesses. “Is it a rabbit?”

“Yes!” The exclamation is louder than he anticipates, half-shocked, half-delighted that Eita had managed to guess it in the first place. So his artistic skills aren’t completely lacking—he’s not totally helpless. 

With that in mind, he begins to formulate his next endeavor. Craning his head over his shoulder, he glances at Eita, throwing him a mischievous grin that goes unnoticed as his friend watches him eagerly, hands curling over the edges of the moon. 

With the last one in place, Satori leans back to watch Eita scrutinize his next constellation, eyes narrowing and brows furrowing deeply. His mouth moves inaudibly as he inclines forward, nimble fingers tightening around his seat. There’s so much life scrunched on his face that the moon seems to glow brighter than before. 

As he watches him, Satori slowly realizes he’d steal all of the stars in the sky if he could see Eita this way for the rest of time.

\--

“I’ve never seen him this happy before,” Hayato says, prodding at Earth’s neighboring planet. He hisses as the colorful orb he dubs ‘Venus’ sputters and sizzles at his touch. “Well,” he starts, dropping his hand, “not happy, per se. But I’ve never seen him so content.” 

Satori leans back and pushes the star he’d been cleaning back into place. He glances down at his handkerchief and makes a note to clean it off the next time he has a chance. “What?” 

Hayato purses his lips and cocks his head toward Earth, further toward the moon, which sits in a sliver. Eita lounges against it, stretched out like a cat to fit against the curve. Even with it mostly obscured, there’s enough light to gently illuminate Eita’s figure, helped by the silver gauze that undulates with each minor shift. At the moment, his eyes are shut, lashes brushing his cheeks as he slumbers. 

“Eita,” Hayato answers, and they watch him for a moment longer before the planets’ guardian returns to Venus, palms hovering over a chain of mountains. “He looks so at peace, and that’s because of you.” 

That startles Satori, who nearly knocks into a throng of stars that twirl past him. With a quiet yelp, he ducks just in time to avoid a potential calamity. One black hole is bad, but multiple ones? It would be cataclysmic. Hayato throws him a weary look, then touches one of the mountaintops. A trail of smoke follows his fingertips, and the mountaintop croaks before exploding. 

“I don’t know if it’s because of me—”

“No, it’s because of you. Trust me, I would know,” Hayato chuckles, interrupting him. Using the finger that’d touched the volcano, he wipes whatever residue is left over on Satori’s tunic, causing the latter to scrunch his face in disgust. “Don’t worry, it’s harmless.”

Even so, he swipes the heated material off of his clothes. “Still—”

“You saw what he was like when you first arrived, right?” Hayato says, resuming his inspection. Brazenly, he plucks a star from its place and tosses it to Satori, who catches it with wide eyes. The audacity. “He doesn’t get many visitors, and while some people like that—” Satori thinks to Kenjirou. “—Eita isn’t. He likes having friends around, people he can talk to. Being where he is...it’s hard for me or Reon to pay him a visit.” 

“What about Wakatoshi?” It’s a question that’s been prodding at Satori’s mind, itching like a bite. If Wakatoshi had a job similar to his, then why hadn’t he given Eita much company?

Hayato sighs, running a hand through his hair before pulling it down his face. “God, Reon and I have wondered the same thing—no one really knows what went through Wakatoshi’s head. He’s our friend, sure, but he was also very duty bound. Strict about completing his tasks, even if it meant leaving us for long periods of time. That meant Eita was left alone for long periods of time.” 

“How long?” Satori isn’t sure he wants to know, heart lurching painfully for his friend.

“Long enough.” Hayato’s expression falls at the reveal, and Satori flinches. “I don’t know how many times he and Earth would circle the sun before he’d get a visitor. All of us tried to visit him as often as we could, but with our responsibilities, it was difficult, more so for Reon and Wakatoshi. At least the three of us could move around freely—Wakatoshi had his stars, I have my planets, and Reon has his asteroids. But Eita? He can’t leave, and he only has the Earth and moon as his only companions. And now, with you here, he’s happy again. I don’t think he’s ever had someone stay as long as you.”

“I get the feeling he still thinks I’m doing it out of pity.”

“Are you?”

“No, I’d never. I enjoy his company, and I understand a lot better than he thinks. If I had a choice, I’d never spend a moment of my life alone.” 

Hayato claps a hand to his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here. So is Reon. There’s nothing more we’d like to see than Eita finding a bit of happiness. I guess, what I’m trying to say is, you have our thanks, for being here when we can’t.”

Nothing in his words hint at a false sincerity, filled with genuine gratefulness. They fall into a comfortable silence, the back of Satori’s neck and the tips of his ears still burning at the thanks. He rubs the star clean on his tunic before setting it back in place, when a thought hits him—practically strikes him against the back of his head with how wild it is. 

“Hey, Hayato,” he begins, taking care that the light bleeds back into the glassy orb. The caretaker twists in his periphery, question sitting high on his brow. “I have a question. Well, more of an idea.” 

\-- 

“What do you think will happen if you leave?” Satori asks. Today, he sits above Eita, legs hanging over the edge, while his friend nestles in the brilliant crescent crook. 

“Hard to say. I’ve wondered about it, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m shackled here—actually, that’s a bit strong. I’ll take that back. I’ve never tried, nor will I ever get the chance to. It’s against the rules.” 

“But if you could…” Satori trails off. He switches his position until he’s splayed over the curve, face above Eita’s and gangly limbs dangling over the edge. 

Eita shrugs. “I still don’t know.” 

“But would you?”

“Where is this going?” His friend tilts his head up to scrutinize Satori, and the little part in the back of his head notices that he can see his own reflection in those intense eyes. Instead of answering, Satori slips off the moon and dangles himself in front of Eita, fingers still curled around the edge. 

He’s pleased when Eita doesn’t flinch away, now accustomed to Satori’s close proximity. 

“I’m asking because—” He grunts as he lets go, floating before Eita and crossing his legs. “—I have an idea.” 

At that, Eita’s expression grows guarded, a little suspicious, but Satori’s only mildly offended. After all, collecting the stars and turning them into random constellations had been fun, even if it’d been a hassle to put them back into place afterwards as to not incite panic in those who reside on Earth. Though, in Satori’s mind, that would've and could’ve been hilarious. 

“And what did you have in mind?” Eita asks slowly, cautiously. 

“You can’t leave on your own, right? But what if someone carried you?” 

The suggestion causes Eita’s eyes to blow wide. “No!” he splutters, utterly taken aback. The rejection stings a bit, but Satori maintains his impassivity, though his grin falters an iota. “I—I can’t. I—what will happen to the moon? To Earth? What if they both collapse without me here?” 

“I think,” Satori starts, drifting to settle on the edge of the moon, and Eita pulls his legs to his chest, setting his chin on his knee. “I think you'll never know until you try.” When Eita opens his mouth to protest, Satori holds up a hand, silencing him. “I’m not trying to pressure you into this, but if and whenever you’re ready to try it, I’m willing to carry you wherever you want to go.”

A light flush pools in Eita’s cheeks, and it makes Satori giddy. His refusal hadn’t come from complete dismissal of the idea; it’d come from a deep seated worry for his home and the planet it revolved around. 

“Think about it,” Satori says. “I’ll be waiting.”

\--

Earth orbits the sun twice more, and Satori has cleaned countless stars, has had numerous conversations with Eita and three visits from Hayato. Yet, they never bring up the topic of Satori’s offer, though at times, he catches Eita watching him with intensity, a thoughtful purse to his lips. 

It’s when he’s taking a break, lounging through the sky and rubbing his handkerchief clean, that Eita speaks up. 

“Satori…”

He hums in acknowledgement, eyes still shut against the blinking lights. 

“I think I’m ready to try.” 

Satori freezes. “Try what?” he asks, words treading carefully. Sitting up, he tucks away his handkerchief and pushes the hair from his eyes. Eita is looking away, boring holes into the moon’s sliver of light, and any harder, his gaze will be enough to add craters to the surface. 

“You know, the whole exploration thing.” His words are awkward, stilted, and full of hesitation. But there’s a burning eagerness underlying his dark irises as well as a determined curl to his lips. “Were you serious about your offer?” 

They know he’s referring to Satori’s insistence on supporting him.

“I know I like to mess around and snatch stars from the sky, but I was completely serious about that,” Satori affirms quietly. Lifting his head, he locks gazes with Eita, utterly serious. “I would carry you to the ends of the galaxy, if you asked me to.” 

Not breaking their connection, he drifts closer until their knees knock together. “I want you to see what everyone else sees,” Satori continues, but Eita cuts him off with a timid smile.

“I don’t need you to take me to the ends of the galaxy,” he says. “I want to see the planets that circle this sun. I want to see the red dot that Hayato always talks about and touch the rings that circle Saturn. Just to the last planet that revolves around this star. That’s enough for me.” 

“Then I’ll take you.” Satori floats closer and with caution, holds out his hand. Allowing Eita to make the first move, he waits, fingers outstretched. “I’ll carry you there and back.” 

"Are you sure?" Eita breathes. His eyes glow brighter than ever before, and Satori has never seen anything so beautiful. He nods, a small smile curling on his lips. Leaning forward, he takes one of Eita's hands, listening his bracelets jangle to a metallic melody. 

"I'm sure." He takes Eita's other hand and pulls himself closer. "Let's explore together," he whispers. There's a reluctance in Eita's movements, a jerky hesitance that holds him back. But the eagerness on his face speaks volumes. 

He helps Eita loop his arms around his neck, feels the warmth seep into his skin and the shock at feeling another touch him. The emotions that run through him mirror on Eita's expression, from his glassy eyes to his trembling lips. 

Satori gently wraps one arm around Eita's waist and bends to hook the other under his knees. His friend is pleasantly warm to the touch, and the chiffon that hangs loosely in waves brush against his skin, soft and draping. 

"Are you sure?" Eita asks again. His words wash over him, cool and quiet. They're perched at the edge of the nook, and Eita has never looked so fearful and excited at the same time. 

Satori leans forward, letting his forehead rest against Eita's. Their noses brush, and he whispers, "Rules are meant to be broken."

With that, he pulls Eita off of the crook. His friend shakes in his arms, burying his face into the crook of Satori's neck, and his breath fans across Satori's skin, slow and warm.

It starts at the top of the crescent, a slow dimming, and travels down to the lower tip. The moon continues to dim until all glow has left its form. It's as if Eita has taken all of its beauty with him as the little halo of light around his figure remains incandescent. 

Satori drifts back, arms secure around Eita's light form. He waits for him to collect himself, content with having him at such a close proximity. 

"I've got you," he whispers. There's no one else around them, but he feels the need to keep their conversation a secret between them, and only them. Eita’s irises are bright, limpid pools that reflect all the constellations in the sky, all of the beauty of the universe converged into that luminescent gaze. 

When Eita exhales, it’s with a choked breath, and Satori pulls him closer until he can feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest. With their proximity, Satori’s half-afraid that Eita will be able to feel the hummingbird that flutters in his chest, beating with rapid anticipation. They wait, but the moon doesn’t collapse, Earth doesn’t stop spinning, and all remains quiet. 

“I think,” Satori starts, “we can go.”

The dark tips of Eita’s hair brush under his chin as he nods in affirmation. 

And with a light kick, they’re off. 

At the first jerk, Eita startles, but Satori keeps his arms roped around him, breath fanning the top of his head. Behind them, Earth begins to shrink, growing smaller and smaller with each second that hurtles past them, and the moon—it remains dark as it continues to orbit around its planet, gravity keeping it tethered to its position. 

They pass Earth’s neighbor, a red dot that grows with their approach, and its fiery glow casts a tender shade of red over their skin. On Eita, it’s reminiscent of a flush that extends over his milky features like a second skin. His friend watches the planet spin in greeting. There’s an indescribable emotion that gleams in the whites of his eyes, a sheen that comes from wondrous emotion. 

Neither stops as Satori continues past the planet, and Eita, though shaky with anxiety, stretches out his arm, letting his fingers touch the stars that twinkle at their presence. They quiver at his feathery touch, fingertips barely grazing their polished surfaces.

Silence follows in their wake, but it’s not one of loneliness nor is it filled with desolation. Rather, it’s one of comfort, of friendship and trust and the potential for something more. His pace is leisurely, trying to keep it so that Eita can take in more of this small bubble that makes up his—their—home. 

A gasp slips from Eita’s lips as the dot that’d been flaring in the inky darkness begins to grow in size. Grows and grows and grows until it’s practically massive. Encompasses a giant that swirls with a multitude of colors. 

And on the surface, they catch sight of a lean figure lying on the edge, finger swirling around that stupid red dot the caretaker continuously raves about. Eita releases a cry of amused astonishment, and the sound travels to capture Hayato’s attention. 

He snaps his head up, and at the sight of them, his face falls into shock before breaking into a beam that could rival the sun. Hopping to his feet, he waves both arms in the air, shouting their names and punctuating them with whoops of excitement. 

In between, Eita catches his brief message.

_You did it!_

No longer fearful, Eita waves at him, equally stunned, and throws his head back with a laugh when Hayato gesticulates frantically at the swirling red dot. Hayato crouches down, sitting cross-legged on the evermoving surface and dips two fingers into the storm, and lightning splinters from its edges. Beautiful and jagged and full of life. 

Satori glances down, a silent inquiry as to whether Eita wants to stop and chat, but the latter shakes his head and begins to wave a valediction to their friend, who throws up his arm and waves it back in understanding. 

They continue on, and the sheen in Eita’s eyes grows even brighter, barely barricading the emotions that threaten to inundate him. Satori slows when they approach Saturn, pausing by the thick rings that wrap around the planet. It’s not as big as Hayato’s favorite; nevertheless, it’s beautiful. 

Eita extends a trembling hand before touching his palm to the rough surface of the belt, and he breathes out in marvel, amazement exuding from every inch of his body. He continues to feel the coarse solidity, only releasing it when they drift past the planet. 

Time flies. They pass Uranus and Neptune, twins that differ in hue.

Just as they reach the end of the bubble, they catch a familiar trail of asteroids and an equally familiar being that stands at the front, staff firm in his hands. Reon barely catches them, too busy shepherding the broken asteroid that Satori recognizes with a warm lurch of his stomach. 

When he turns, his eyes stop on them, and he freezes, eyes going wide and mouth falling into a small ‘o’. More incredulous than Hayato, he remains speechless until Satori realizes that there are light streaks that trail down his cheeks. Reon’s grip tightens on his staff, and he breaks out into an emotional laugh. 

Eita echoes him, and all of the emotion that’d built up within him finally leaks out. He cries as he laughs, tears gliding down his face in glistening diamonds that reflect starlight, turning them into equally brilliant droplets that tumble down the slopes of his cheeks. 

Satori feels his heart throb with something inexpressible, but it hurts in a good way, one that satisfies him to know that Eita is finally able to experience this journey. Though he can’t move on his own, his burden is now attenuated by Satori’s presence, and as Satori gazes down on this crying, captivating being—tragedy and beauty balled into stardust and moonlight—he knows that he’d carry Eita from one end of the universe to the other with no hesitation. 

\--

Their journey ends as Satori releases Eita back to the moon with reluctance. Even Eita seems unwilling to part from Satori’s hold, letting their fingers and palms brush once more before falling to his side. The lighting returns the same way it’d gone—slowly, from one tip down to the other until Eita’s brilliance bleeds back into the moon. 

He continues to stand as Satori drifts back a fraction to give him room, and while he can’t read Eita’s thoughts, he knows they feel the twin pang at the loss of warmth. 

“Thank you,” Eita whispers, barely audible. Another tear leaks from the corner of his eye, and Satori pulls out his handkerchief and reaches over to brush it against his cheek, treating him as carefully and delicately as one of his stars.

Because that’s what Eita has become: a star that shines brighter than any other, beauty and strength overshadowing even the most brilliant of heavenly bodies. 

At the gesture, Eita’s eyes flutter shut before Satori drops his hand, fingertips grazing against the wetness that dots the fabric. Neither of them move until Eita lifts his arms and cups Satori’s face. Bringing him close, he presses his lips against the top of Satori’s head. 

As he pulls back, he whispers once more, voice trembling with emotion, “Thank you.”

\--

Tendou Satori has the best job in the universe. 

He plucks a star from its place, huffing a warm breath over its glassy surface, and watches it fog over before swiping his handkerchief over it. The dust and grime clear as he continues to clean the miniature sphere. Continues to do so until it sparkles.

This time, he holds it up, peering through it to find Eita watching him with a fond smile quirking his lips. A flush creeps over the back of his neck, but he can’t help but return it with a growing grin of his own. At the sight of the clean star, Eita nods his head in approval and appreciation.

With that, he sets it back into place, and the pair watch as it fills with a warm nacarat glow. Turning away, he blinks away the ghost of its bright hue, and shares another smile with Eita. 

His star radiates luminescence, a faint halo glowing from his silhouette in a friendly greeting. 

This time, when he glides to the next star, his sigh is one of satisfaction, content, and happiness. 

Tendou Satori has the best job in the universe.

And now, he’s no longer alone. 

Because at his side, keeping him company, is the man on the moon. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've missed writing for Tensemi, so this was an absolute pleasure to write. This abstract, crazy idea came to mind when I had a fleeting thought about someone stuck on the moon and their friendship with someone who took care of the stars. Who better than Semi and Tendou to fill those roles? 
> 
> If you've made it to this point, thank you for reading! You can find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/ostenreal) or [Tumblr](https://shrimpyboke.tumblr.com/) :)


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